That Guy
by Chelle Storey-Daniel
Summary: Mark has a new woman in his life. She's four. And Mark is one proud daddy. But when Callie and Haley are in an accident ... can he save them?


Dr. Miranda Bailey had seen a lot in her tenure at Seattle Grace. She had seen the aftermath of severed LVAD wires, explosions, flooding, and so much sex rumpled hair that she often wondered if anyone actually SLEPT in the on call rooms. Nothing shocked her anymore, but on occasion, Mark Sloan was able to surprise her a little. No one called him man whore anymore. Even the most scorned of the nurses had retired the term and as Miranda stood beside him, looking at the photos he was showing her on his phone, her heart swelled for him. Affection for Sloan was the last thing Miranda ever expected to feel, but there it was.

He was still McSteamy and no one, even Bailey, could deny that.

But he was a husband and father first and foremost.

Which made him even sexier, though Miranda considered herself immune to that. She wasn't blind. Just immune.

"She looks so much like Callie in this one, huh?" Mark scrolled on his Blackberry, showing her a photo of Haley with her arms crossed, clearly pouting.

Miranda laughed. "That's exactly how Callie looked at me the other day when I told her that her surgery had been bumped."

With a chuckle, Mark put his phone back in the pocket of his lab coat. "Imagine when they BOTH look at you that way. I'm doomed."

Tilting her head to one side, Miranda studied him closely. Her smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful, contemplative look instead. "I was wrong about you, you know? You are *that* guy."

"What? What guy?"

She shrugged, cavalier. "I've got a surgery, Dr. Sloan. I'll talk to you later."

Mark watched her walk away. When she was halfway down the hall, he yelled, "What guy!?!"

Bailey boarded the elevator, giving him a playful wave. Mark scratched the side of his head and glanced at the surgical board. A moment later, he was joined by Derek. "Oh!" Mark said, digging his phone out of his pocket again. "You have to see this picture of Haley! She was -"

Derek groaned. "A new picture? Different than the ones from yesterday? The ones that took you half an hour to scroll through?"

Mark blanched, letting the hand holding the phone drop to his side. With his eyes wide, he shook his head. "Oh my god. Bailey's right."

"She usually is, but what wisdom has she imparted today?"

"I'm *that* guy. The one who bores people with photos of their kids. And - and - Jesus Christ."

Derek laughed. "There are worse things to be than *that* guy."

Mark thought about that for a few seconds, then nodded. "You're right. Look at this picture."

*~*~

Haley Ann Sloan came quietly into the world nine months after Mark and Callie decided that they needed to be more than friends with benefits. Their celebration sex had been an all night affair, with plenty of wine, but not a lot of condoms. Despite the dueling medical degrees that hung in their offices ... neither Callie nor Mark realized that she was pregnant until she puked in his new car when he arrived to take her for a spin. That day, he traded his sporty little two seater for an SUV and never looked back. They married fast, before Callie's father could show up with a shotgun, and when the squirming baby made her grand debut, Mark only had one request. He wanted her named after his grandfather, Hal Sloan, who had died just days before Haley was born.

Despite having new parent jitters, Callie and Mark survived colic, teething, crawling, walking, and the first day of preschool with aplomb. Haley was an easy going child ... as long as she had something pink to wear, her favorite blanket in her arms, and her tiny Coach purse. The purse was a birthday gift from Addison, who had yet to miss any of Haley's birthdays. Four in all. And Mark was already dropping hints to Callie that trying for a boy would be a great idea. And if they didn't get a boy out of the mix, another girl would be just fine, too.

Checking his watch, Mark frowned. He was sitting in the cafeteria, waiting for Callie and Haley. Their names were so similar that he found himself calling them by each other's names more often than not. Because of that, Haley became Hal ... just for him. No one else could call her an 'old man name', she always said, but her Daddy could.

After trying Callie's cell phone for the third time, he pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

That's when Miranda walked toward him and the look on her face caused the coffee cup in his hand to splash its content on the floor.

*~*~*~

"I have to see her!" Mark growled, trying to push past Derek.

"You have to wait." Derek pushed him back a few feet. It wasn't meant to be cruel, but the look on Mark's face was devastating to the people who had gathered in the hallway to wait with him. In a kinder voice, Derek added, "You'll just be in the way. Let them work on her."

"Why won't they tell me anything!?!"

"You know how this is," Meredith said gently. "Would you rather they come out here and tell us that there's nothing to tell or stay in there and work on her?"

Defeated, Mark sat down and put his head in his hands.

Car wreck.

Car wreck.

Car wreck.

The words played through his head like a echo. The ringing in his ears had been his constant companion since Bailey had broken the news. His wife, Mark knew, was behind door number one. His daughter had been taken to surgery. And he was supposed to sit perfectly still and let the chaos happen around him, but take no part in it.

When the door opened and Bailey emerged ... Mark heard Callie crying and that was the final straw.

He shot to his feet, not waiting to hear the diagnosis, and rushed into the trauma room.

Letting himself indulge in a split second of relief ... Callie was awake, she was sitting up, she was looking at him ... he let the breath go that he had been holding. She was bloody, the gash on her forehead looked deep, but had been stitched beautifully. Her cheek was bruised, her arms were scratched, and she was clutching something in her hands.

A pink blanket.

Haley's pink blanket.

Speckled with blood.

"He ran a red light," Callie mumbled through her tears. "He hit on her side of the car. I - I tried to get her out, but I couldn't. Her leg was pinned. I couldn't get her! I couldn't do anything!"

"Are you okay, baby? How bad are you -"

"They won't tell me how she is! No one will tell me *anything*!"

Mark moved to the side of the bed, pulling her against his chest. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and held her as she cried. If he noticed that his own face was wet, he didn't seem to care. "She's in surgery," Mark said softly. "They took her straight back and I - I didn't get to see her."

Miranda cleared her throat, stepping a little closer to the bed. "I'm sorry. I thought that someone would have updated you by now. She's got an open fracture in her foot. They're putting pins in and -"

"Who is doing it!?" Callie demanded, trying to free her legs. "I need to -"

"No, you're not doing anything except resting, Dr. Torres," Chief Webber told her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "She's in good hands."

"Whose hands? You're all here!" Mark snapped.

"Yang and Karev have it under control." Webber stepped back, pulling off his gloves. "I'll go and scrub in and send one of them out for an update."

"There was so much blood," Callie said, sobbing now. "Her head -"

"Her scan was fine," Bailey assured her. "Derek reviewed everything. Haley had a cut on her cheek and you know how head wounds bleed. She's going to be just fine. And ... Callie, please take something for pain. You have a minor concussion and you need -"

"No! No, I want to be awake and alert and -"

"You haven't had anything for the pain!?" Mark demanded. When Callie shook her head, he held out his hand to Bailey, who surrendered the syringe she was holding. "What is this?"

"Morphine." Bailey pulled another syringe from the pocket of her lab coat. "And this is something to calm her down."

"NO!" Callie shook her head vehemently, the grasped it. "Ow."

Mark gently pulled her left hand down, rubbing his thumb over the platinum band on her finger. Lowering the bedrail, he sat facing her and tugged her against him. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, Mark nodded at Bailey, who injected the medication into her IV.

*~*~*~

Dr. Miranda Bailey had seen a lot in her tenure at Seattle Grace. As she sat in the waiting room, watching Callie sleep with her head in Mark's lap, she knew that she would gladly take the aftermath of LVAD wire cutting, explosions and flooding over watching Mark Sloan struggle with his emotions. One of his hands clutched his daughter's blanket and the other rested on Callie's shoulder. His eyes stared, unseeing, at a spot near Bailey's knee, and try as she might, there was nothing she could say to ease his discomfort. No one could. Not Derek, who sat a few feet away flipping through a magazine for the millionth time. Not the Chief, who was leaning against the wall nursing a cup of coffee that had chilled long before he took the first sip. Not Meredith, who sat primly next to Derek with her eyes on the clock. And not O'Malley, who had paced in the corridor just beyond the waiting room so much that the squeaking of his shoes sounded like a song.

Bailey jumped when Haley's voice filled the room, saying "Don't forget my bedtime story, Daddy."

Across from her, Mark shifted, jarring Callie awake as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. He stared at it for a moment before silencing it. He caught Bailey looking and smiled a little. "One time. I forgot her bedtime story *one* time and she put a reminder on my phone."

Miranda smiled. "She keeps you on your toes."

Mark was not paying attention to Bailey, however. His *wife* was rubbing her head and the pressure caused one of her stitches to open. "Cal-"

"Have you heard anything?" she asked, smudging away the blood on her forehead. "Why is it taking so long?"

"They're working on her," Mark replied, rubbing her hair back. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay."

Mark handed her his unopened bottle of water. Callie took several sips and glanced up at the clock, shaking her head.

Whatever she planned on saying died as nothing more than a thought because Yang and Karev appeared in the doorway. Mark rose first and Callie followed, her bloodshot eyes moving from one doctor to the other. "How is she?"

Cristina smiled. "She's a hellion. Just like her mother."

Alex nodded. "Came through with flying colors and then told me off for putting a white cast on her when everyone *knows* that pink is her favorite color."

"And then she yelled at me because she was wearing a hospital gown so I had to put her wing thing back on her. Really, Callie, the way you dress your kid leaves a lot to be desired."

But Callie wasn't listening. She had buried her face against Mark's chest and he was speaking softly to her as he rubbed his hand over her back.

*~*~*~*~

Haley Ann Sloan came quietly into the world, but happily filled it with sound every chance she got after that. Whether she was screaming for a bottle, screaming from teething, or screaming for the sheer joy of watching her parents cringe, noise and Haley were best friends. She was singing in a high pitched voice when her parents walked into her room. Sitting at the foot of the bed, with her legs dangling over the side, she smiled prettily and said, "I got a *pink* cast. I can't wait to show my friends. But Dr. Alex almost gave me a white one 'til I hollered at him."

Mark let Callie go, having supported her down the hall, and watched her kiss every Band-Aid, every scratch and every inch of their daughter's face. When she moved aside and sat down in the wheelchair that Bailey had tried to make her ride in earlier, it was his turn. He cupped Haley's cheeks with his hands and looked into her big, blue eyes. So much of her was Callie, from the dark colored bangs over her forehead to her heart shaped lips, but those eyes ... those were his. They were a constant reminder of who he wanted to be. And that ... was a dad. "Are you okay, Hal?"

She shook her head. "I wanna go home. Me and Mommy builded Tinkerbell wings 'cause you bought me Peter Pan and you gotta read it, Daddy. 'Kay?"

Mark watched his little girl reach over her shoulder and stroke the slightly crooked, heavily damaged homemade wings that she was wearing. Never, in a million years, did Mark Sloan think that he would ever *care* about bedtime stories or trying to repair a paper wing, but he smoothed the wrinkles out of Haley's featherless fliers before gently lifting her into his arms. She yawned and rested her head against his shoulder before scratching the stubble on his cheek with her fingers. "Itchy," she proclaimed.

Giving her a kiss, Mark settled her in Callie's lap and spread her pink blanket over her, carefully tucking it around the cast on her foot. He kneeled down next to the wheelchair, covering Callie's hand with his as they both gazed at their child. And then, as he always did, Mark pulled out his cellphone and snapped a picture. Callie rolled her eyes, but Haley giggled and smiled prettily for the second photo. "You're so silly, Daddy."

Mark rubbed his finger over her cheek before giving her another kiss. "I'm not silly, Hal. I'm *that guy*."

Dr. Miranda Bailey had seen a lot in her tenure at Seattle Grace.

But she still walked into the hallway to watch *that guy* wheel his family out of the emergency room.

In a place like Seattle Grace, you had a tendency to follow happiness as long as it would let you.

And the Sloan family was the happiest thing that Miranda had seen in a while.

The End

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